Thematic Section Articles 51
Making Anthropology Matter
in the Heyday of Islamophobia
and the ‘Refugee Crisis’:
The Case of Poland
Michał Buchowski
DOI: 10.21104/CL.2016.1.03
Abstract This paper addresses the issue
of multiculturalism in Poland, with the
reference point being Islamophobia and
the attitude towards ‘the Other’, especially
immigrants in Europe. It is argued that
today’s attitudes towards the Other result
from the most recent history, marked
by the interwar, wartime and postWWII nationalisms, seven decades of
a relative ethnic and cultural homogeneity
of society, recent migration trends in
Europe, the current ‘refugee crisis’ and
worldwide spreading of a fear of terrorism,
overwhelmingly bolstered by the media.
These phenomena are scrutinized by
referring to the example of Muslims living
in Poland. An appeal for anthropological
action in the social and political domain
informed by expert knowledge is advocated.
Keywords islamophobia, migration,
tolerance, multiculturalism,
anthropological engagement.
Contact Prof. Michał Buchowski, Ph.D.,
Department of Ethnology and Cultural
Anthropology, Adam Mickiewicz University,
ul. Umultowska 89D, 61-614 Poznań, Poland,
and European University Viadrina, Frankfurt/
Oder, Deutschland; [email protected].
Jak citovat / How to cite Buchowski,
Michał. (2016). Making Anthropology
Matter in the Heyday of Islamophobia
and the ‘Refugee Crisis’: The Case of
Poland. Český lid 103, 51–67. doi:http://
dx.doi.org/10.21104/CL.2016.1.03
52 Český lid 103 1 2016
In memory of Czesław Robotycki,
a decent man and courageous anthropologist
Introduction
Czesław Robotycki asked a crucial question about the future of Polish multiculturalism and the fate of immigrants in the country – ‘Poland is facing
a fundamental problem: whether we will have fellow citizens, or only guests
in the country’ (2010: 111). Now, in the middle of the so-called refugee crisis
of 2015–2016, we can push the question even further: Whether we will treat
‘the Other’ as enemies and a threat to our social order, or as fellow humans
and citizens. These questions force us to think about what should be done for
the society to function in the modern world of mobile people. This issue is
a fundamental one for anthropologists, not only because of their traditional
interest in cultural differences and intergroup relations but also because of
the discipline’s ethos of prohibiting discrimination against individuals and
groups on account of their biological, social or cultural characteristics. This
question also concerns the legal but first and foremost the ‘mental constitution’ of Polish society as well as other Central European and European societies, and, more broadly, the ‘structure of feeling’ of Europeans: a set of perceptions, ideals and values held by a particular group of people living in a certain
time and place (Williams 1977: 128–135); those ‘meanings and values as they
are actively lived and held’ (Williams 1977: 132).
Understanding modern nationalism is fundamental in this context. The initially emancipatory force of nationalism, which led to the liberation of various societies in the region, transformed into something that Louis Dumont calls
‘German ideology’, a horrendous hybrid of crude Darwinism transposed from
the individual to the national level. This ideology legitimized the unrestricted
right to ethnic cleansing, the fight for Lebensraum, and genocide of all those
considered enemies. Thus, modern history has not been favourable to the inherited multi-ethnic and multi-religious traditions of the Commonwealth of
Poland and Lithuania, which lasted until 1795. The birth of nationalistic ideas
in the 19th century and their dominance in the 20th, reaching an apogee during World War II, changed Poland into an ethnically and religiously homogeneous country. The Communist authorities, sharing the ideology of national unity as a political virtue, took great pains to ‘repatriate’ (1944–1956), assimilate
(1956–1989), and ‘export’ (1970–1980) the remaining minorities (cf. Buchowski –
Chlewińska 2012: 346–348). After World War II, minorities appeared in the
propaganda only at times when problems with imaginary enemies – bandérivtsi, Zionists, or German revisionists – were being solved. The cultural and ethnic
monochrome was paired with attempts to carry out a social uravnilovka (a topdown enforcement of uniformity) in the name of ideological equality and justice. This was supposed to be realized through activities propagating secularity,
Making Anthropology Matter in the Heyday of Islamophobia and the ‘Refugee Crisis’ 53
aimed at the disappearance of religion, hence also of the religious minorities.
The goal of this Communist Gleichschaltung, like the Nazi one, was the removal of pluralism. Contrary to the postcolonial superdiversity (Vertovec 2007) that
emerged in many European countries in the post-WWII and postcolonial period, I argue that it was superhomogeneity that appeared as the consequence of
postsocialism in Poland and some other Central European countries.
This historical contingency caused ethnic and religious minorities to become absent from public discourse, except for the moments of ‘conflicts with
the enemies of the Polish People’s Republic’, a phrase often used in official propaganda. According to Robotycki (2010: 109), the minorities existed in the social
consciousness only as ethnographic curiosities. While in reality the situation is
somewhat more complex, I have to agree with this observation in general terms.
It is within the framework of this homogeneity of Poland that racism and xenophobia perpetually re-emerge, fusing with the desire to impose one single legitimate world view and moral standards. Meanwhile, Poles’ approach towards
fellow citizens whose ethnic identity is other than Polish, and religions other
than Catholicism, is a fundamental issue for the constitution of social life. This
framework also directly affects attitudes towards immigrants, and refugees in
particular. In this respect, I argue that anthropologists should not remain passive and should engage in social pedagogy. Facing racial and xenophobic practices head on is, in my view, a litmus test for the decency and social courage of
anthropology and anthropologists in contemporary Europe.
Many Polish national historians like to instil a belief in the ‘eternal tolerance’ of Poles. Meanwhile, the history of this tradition described by such leading specialists on the subject as Janusz Tazbir shows how this attitude was
reduced in the first Rzeczpospolita (Republic) (Tazbir 1967; 1973; 1980) and
evaporated in the 19th century, the age of nationalism. No relation between
the historical tolerance in the Republic of Nobles and the views of contemporary Poles can be traced besides the myth of the nation’s inborn predisposition to tolerance (Buchowski – Chlewińska 2012: 360). Instead, it would be
wiser to trace the roots of the attitudes towards the Other in the most recent
history, contemporary social relations in Poland, Europe and worldwide, and
overpowering media reports. In this article, my starting point for further remarks regarding anthropological engagement will be the account of ‘Polish
tolerance’ through the prism of attitudes to Muslims living in Poland as well as
purely media-made image of Muslims looming on the horizons of Europe.
Fundamental to understanding anti-Islamic attitudes in Poland is the fact
that we are dealing with intolerance towards a group with which most people have had no immediate, daily contact, simply because they are so few
and so invisible. The lack of acceptance of Muslims living in Poland, a ‘religiously and culturally distant’ group, is thus to some extent similar to the
anti-Semitism present both in Polish folklore (cf. Cała 2005; BanasiewczOssowska 2007; Tokarska-Bakir 2008) and in contemporary public discourse
54 Český lid 103 1 2016
and everyday politics. Włodzimierz Borodziej aptly remarked that ‘there is
no “Jewish question” in Poland. We deal with a problem of anti-Semitism
whose vitality proves the well-known truth: anti-Semitism is the problem of
anti-Semites’ (2001: 67). Similarly, I will try to show that Polish anti-Islamism is the problem of the anti-Islamists. In other words, it is not Muslims
who call into question ‘Polish tolerance’ in the light of officially accepted EU
standards. As I will try to show, this tolerance is in fact limited merely to the
groups perceived as culturally assimilated to the national mainstream for
a long time or ready to succumb to assimilation. Only groups ready to accept their subordination to the majority in the material and symbolic relations of power and dominance are tolerated.
On the one hand, Polish ‘anti-Islamism’ is historically conditioned. The
image of the country as the historical bulwark of Christianity is still popular.
The Battle of Vienna in 1683, in which the Polish king Jan III Sobieski played
a decisive role in defeating the Ottomans, is one of the most popular stories in
the national mythology. On the other hand, anti-Islamism is a correlate of the
spectre of the threat of radical and violent Muslims, fear of terrorism, which
is widespread in the West. In the most recent ‘refugee crisis’, which has so
far reached Poland only hypothetically – through media coverage and public
debates – these two conditions are intertwined and demonstrated in a set of
shocking, upsetting, even horrifying practices.
Muslims in Poland
In a highly homogeneous country, especially on the ethnic and religious level,
being a Muslim is a distinctive feature of one’s identity. There are at least five
groups of Muslims in Poland. One of them is the Polish Tatars, living within
the borders of contemporary Poland for centuries; another is old newcomers
from the East, arriving here between the end of the 18th century and World
War II, including those fleeing revolutionary and post-revolutionary Russia –
many members of those two groups have Polonized; the third group consists
of immigrants mainly from Arab countries who came to Poland in the 1970s,
the majority of them male students who married Polish women and settled
in the country; the fourth group would be the new Muslims, refugees from exYugoslavia, especially from Bosnia and Hercegovina, political asylum seekers from Afghanistan, Pakistan, Chechnya and Syria (Marciniak 1997: 353–
259; Rykała 2011: 331–334; Kubicki 2006: 137–148), as well as investors and
entrepreneurs, such as Turkish people who often open restaurants and bars
in Poland (cf. Adamowicz – Kochaniewicz 2012: 116–127; Buchowski 2014).
The fifth group is constituted of Polish converts to Islam, largely ignored in
the analyses of Polish Muslims.
For the purposes of this article, a discussion on anti-Islamism in Poland
should take into account the existence of two basic categories of Muslims: the
Making Anthropology Matter in the Heyday of Islamophobia and the ‘Refugee Crisis’ 55
historical ones, i.e. Tatars, and newer Muslims who arrived in Poland in the
last century, especially the last few decades. Those two groups have a different legal status. Tatars are an officially recognized ethnic minority (in the ‘Act
of 6 January 2005 on national and ethnic minorities and on the regional languages’ [Ustawa o mniejszościach narodowych i etnicznych oraz o języku regionalnym1]), while the latter are seen as ‘incomers’, even if they have Polish
citizenship or permanent residence. In popular terminology they would be
described as immigrants, and many among them as second-, third- or even
fourth-generation immigrants. The former are subjected to the system that,
following Agnieszka Pasieka (2015), I call hierarchical pluralism (Buchowski
2014). Tatars are incorporated and subsumed in the national system and are
tolerated because they became part of the normative order set by the dominant group of Poles. While the Polish Tatars are Muslims and the majority of
Poles are aware of their presence in the country, they perceive them as part
of the Polish cultural landscape. They also function as witnesses and proof of
the mythologized tradition of Polish tolerance and multiculturalism. However,
it is important to note that newer Muslims outnumber Tartars.
Tartars2
Polish Tatars are the descendants of the Crimean Muslims who had been settling in the Grand Duchy of Lithuania since the 14th century. In fact, there
are very few of them today – only 1916 according to the census from 2011,
where 1,000 declared their Tatar identity as their primary one (665 as the
only one) and 916 as their secondary one (Ludność… 2012: 261). They live
all around the country, but the biggest centres are in the villages of Bohoniki
and Kruszyniany in Podlasie (north-east Poland), and in Białystok, Warsaw,
Gdańsk, and Gorzów Wielkopolski (Chazbijewicz 2010: 296). After centuries
they have lost their language and accepted many Polish customs and share the
lifestyle of their neighbours. Their religious writings are often a mixture of
the Polish, Belarusian and Arabic languages. As Selim Chazbijewicz writes,
‘...since the 16th century we can talk about a complete
language assimilation. Since then, Tatar identity has been
formed by Islam and the broadly understood religious
culture, to the extent that the names “Tatar” and “Muslim”
have come to be understood as synonyms’ (2010: 301).
1http://mniejszosci.narodowe.mac.gov.pl/mne/prawo/ustawa-o-mniejszosciac/tlumaczenia/6490,
Tlumaczenia-Ustawy-o-mniejszosciach-narodowych-i-etnicznych-oraz-o-jezyku-region.html
2
There is not enough space to describe Tatars in detail here. The literature
on this small group is impressive. The most comprehensive anthropological
monograph was produced by Katarzyn Warmińska (1997).
56 Český lid 103 1 2016
Under these circumstances, religion has become the mainstay of Tatar identity for the well-assimilated group. However, many Tatars married Christians,
which often led to them ceasing to practise Islam. Therefore, actual assimilation with the dominant society deepened (Chazbijewicz 2010: 288–304). Their
loyalty towards the state seems unequivocal, and ‘Poland has become both
a private and ideological fatherland for Tatars’ (Warmińska 1997: 225). One
can therefore say that the factors used by Tatars for their self-identification
are limited to religion, religiosity and associated customs, as well as a mythical
attachment to a certain historical community, while they also share a number
of cultural features with the Catholic and Orthodox people around them.
‘Newer Muslims’ in Poland
The majority of ‘newer Muslims’ are former students of Arabic descent who
settled in Poland as well as professionals, businessmen and entrepreneurs,
diplomats, refugees and asylum seekers. The size of this group is estimated at
around 20,000–30,000 people. In the national census from 2011 one can only
find information about the national groups coming from countries where Islam
is a dominant religion (Ludność… 2013: 262–264). Altogether their number is
not higher than 10,000. Some declared exclusively non-Polish identity (e.g.,
Arabic, Turkish or Iranian), and many declared twofold identity (Polish and
Arabic, or Arabic and Polish, etc.). Statistical data alone indicate that, including those self-identifying as Tatars, one can count less than 12,000 Muslims
in Poland. There are also people of nationalities not historically identified as
Muslim who are converts, but their number is only vaguely estimated at 3,000–
5,000 (Kubicki 2006: 143). It is hard to ascertain the number of self-declared
Muslims, since the category of Muslim does not appear at all in the section on
religious affiliation in the 2011 census (Ludność… 2013: 99–101). Moreover, the
census does not include immigrants, asylum seekers or diplomats. Thus, we
have to rely on estimates. According to Kubicki (2006), there are approximately 20,000 Muslims in the country, while Radosław Stryjewski gives a figure of
around 40,000 (2011: 56). Even if we accept the number of Polish Muslims at the
level of 30,000, this is merely 0.079% of the country’s population.3 In relation
to other European countries like Germany, France or the Netherlands where
Muslims are counted in millions and their proportion in the population often
exceeds 5% (cf. Gajlewicz-Korab 2011: 31), in demographic terms the phenomenon of Muslims is indeed almost non-existent in Poland.
One more factual remark is appropriate here. Until recently, well over
80,000 Muslim war refugees from Chechnya were received in Poland in this
3
For instance, in France this is 5.5% of the population, in Holland – 4.3%, in Germany – 3%
(‘Biuletyn Migracyjny’, 2006, no. 5, p. 1). Much higher numbers (after Tribalat [1995]) are
given by Katarzyna Gajlewicz-Korab, respectively for France – 7–8% (4–5 million), Holland
– 5.8% (945 thousand) and Germany – 3.4% (3.2 million) (Gajlewicz-Korab 2011: 31).
Making Anthropology Matter in the Heyday of Islamophobia and the ‘Refugee Crisis’ 57
century. However, most of them stayed here temporarily, either on their way
to Western Europe and the Czech Republic, or before returning to the Russian
Federation (Włoch 2009: 60–62; Stryjewski 2011: 149–150). It is estimated that
only 7,000–8,000 of them stayed in the country (Zuchowicz 2015).
Muslims have been recognized by the Polish authorities as a religious group
with rights, and the first Muslim Association was officially acknowledged in
1936. Today, they are organized into several religious and cultural associations,
which represent their various religious and cultural traditions (Stryjewski
2011: 71). While it is true that there are no Muslim schools, rooms in public
schools are sometimes rented for religious education. Conflicts regarding the
wearing of a headscarf are very rare (Włoch 2009: 60) and there are no restrictions in this matter. Until the current ‘refugee crisis’, Muslims had not been
as interesting a subject for the media as in the countries where they comprise
larger groups. Until the beginning of 2015 one could observe ‘indifferent tolerance’ towards them in Poland. However, occasional conflicts immediately
stirred up fears and emotions, and triggered the re-emergence of stereotypes.
I will now scrutinize three examples shedding some light on the problem of
Polish tolerance and then move to the recent eruption of anti-Islamism.
Phantom Islamophobia – three cases
Historically inherited anti-Islamism
At the turn of the 16th and 17th century, anti-Islamic expressions were practically unknown in the Polish language, and Tatars were not discriminated
against, at least on a religious basis (Włoch 2009: 59). Nevertheless, in the
years following September 11, 2001, an aversion towards Islam started to
become widespread. The historic image of Islam as a threat to the European
civilizational identity and even to people’s physical safety corresponds with
the old Christian attitude to Islam as a rival and a sinister religion. As a result
– according to the surveys conducted in Poland by Centrum Badania Opinii
Społecznej – CBOS (Public Opinion Research Centre) – for a number of years
Muslims have been the most negatively perceived group in the country next
to the Roma minority; more than half of those questioned expressed disapproval towards them. The acceptance of the Roma has grown to 15% since
the mid-1990s; simultaneously, hostility towards ‘Arabs’ – who are often
identified with ‘Muslims’ – remains at a high level and grows during debates
on terrorist attacks or ‘Muslim violence’ witnessed in countries with large
Muslim populations (Centrum… 2007; 2010). As Katarzyna Górak-Sosnowska
remarked a decade ago, ‘the word “Islam” often functions next to the word
“terrorism”, which leads to inseparable combinations like “Islamic fundamentalism”, “Islamists”, “Islamic radicals” and, last but not least, “Islamic
terrorism”’ (2006: 159–160). Similarly, by referring to opinion polls (carried
58 Český lid 103 1 2016
out by TNS OBOP [2001]), Agata Marek wrote that ‘Answering the question
“What do Poles associate the word Islam with?”, two thirds answered neutrally – “Islam is associated with religion”. However, almost all the other answers were negative – associating Islam with “war and terrorism”, “war”,
“with Osama bin Laden”, “with fundamentalism and fanaticism”, “with aggression and violence”, “with poverty and backwardness”, and “with the
Taliban”. Only two out of every hundred people had positive connotations
– associating Islam with oriental and Arab culture.’ (2008: 38)
Religious symbols
a) Minaret/cultural centre construction in Warsaw
As in many places in Europe, the building of non-Christian religious structures stirs up protests. Attempts to erect mosques are especially contested.
At present, there are five mosques in Poland. Two are owned by the Tatars in
villages close to the Belarusian border. There is a mosque in Gdańsk, erected in the 1980s, the only one in the country with a visible minaret. The two
other mosques, in Warsaw and in Poznań, are in fact villas converted into
mosques.
The Muslim League, which brings together immigrants who are mostly
from Arab countries, initiated the construction of the Centre of Muslim Culture
(Stefaniuk 2010: 180). It is supposed to comprise of a mosque, a library and
a meeting place, and fulfil many functions – popularizing Islamic culture, performing charity activities and operating as an exhibition space. This represents
a considerable investment, sponsored by a private investor from Saudi Arabia.
This initiative immediately met with objections. A protest was organized by an
association based in Wrocław, ‘Europe of the Future’ (Stowarzyszenie Europa
Przyszłości), which feared the emergence of Araboeuropa, ‘Arabic Europe’.
The demonstration was held in front of the construction site on 27 March
2010. The protesters, numbering 50, claimed that the Centre was sponsored
by radical powers linked with Wahhabi Islam, known in some ‘regions because of its military or even terrorist activities’ (Machajski 2010). The sinister posters ‘Stop the mosque in Warsaw’ (Stop meczetowi w Warszawie) displayed in the capital by the association showed a black silhouette of a person
in a burqa, with minarets resembling bayonets in the background (Jędrusik
2010). Opponents organized a counter-protest and the discussion then continued on internet forums, with the majority of opinions expressing absolute
disapproval of Islam, and especially its presence in Poland.
b) Joanna Rajkowska’s ‘Minaret Project’ in Poznań
A well-known artist proposed an art installation: transforming the rather
short chimney of an old paper factory in Poznań – located near an old, nonfunctioning synagogue – into a minaret. She had a clear goal:
Making Anthropology Matter in the Heyday of Islamophobia and the ‘Refugee Crisis’ 59
‘To force us to talk about problems which we are silent about. About
Islam, the position of women in that culture, about religion, about
living with Muslims. I want to broaden Poznań’s perspectives.
For years I have been calling for diversity in our white,
homogenous and Catholic society.’ (cited in Korotko 2009)
Despite initial approval from the city authorities and efforts made by artistic and liberal circles, the idea has never been realized. The authorities represented by the deputy responsible for culture – as the artist put it – ‘danced
a counter dance’. In explaining their unfavourable judgement and negative
decision, the Competition Jury stated:
‘We consider the realisation of the project a. is culturally alien,
b. disturbs the view of the cathedral and the former synagogue,
c. can be perceived as a religious provocation, d. can be perceived
as an attempt to ridicule the religious symbol – minaret – by
installing it on an old industrial chimney, e. has no artistic qualities
which would make it suitable for the cultural programme in
the city of Poznań.’ (cited in Wachowska-Kucharska 2011)
Arguments justifying the decision of the Competition Jury referred to different
aspects of the project. First of all, the cultural strangeness of the project was
emphasized – it was portrayed as something wicked. If that was so, then the
presence of kebab shops, sushi restaurants and Chinese bars could have been
questioned too. Yet those do not seem to bother anyone. Strangeness is a relative term here, because Islam has been present in Poland for centuries, as
the example of the Polish Tatars and their legal and social status as described
above clearly shows. The next, aesthetic argument refers to the issue of the
perspective and other sacral buildings visible nearby, including the old, nonfunctioning synagogue (Kolbuszewska 2006). Yet we could reply by saying that
it was precisely the juxtaposition of different religious symbols that the artist
proposed. The project was also called a provocation, directed at the very sensitive religious sphere. One may presume it was the dominant majority’s religious feelings which would have been offended. The argument stating that
the minaret would insult Muslims was not justified, because their representatives in the city supported the initiative (Wybieralski 2009). Similarly, the final argument claiming that the project does not suit the artistic programme
in the city is untenable: the organizers of the internationally famous Malta
Festival that has taken place annually in Poznań for years made efforts to realize the project. It seems it was the resistance of conservative religious cir-
60 Český lid 103 1 2016
cles and indignation expressed on internet forums 4 which induced the authorities to give up on the idea. The competition was just a tool used to execute a decision made under pressure.
The content of the opinions expressed was difficult to accept, not only
from the standpoint of political correctness, as guaranteed by the law, but
also of decency and respect for others, in this case the Muslims. 5 One journalist summed it up as follows:
‘And so it has started: fierce discussion on internet forums, the
first protest letters. Rajkowska is being accused of promoting
Islam, religious provocation and wasting public money. In the
statement against the minaret we read that it is Islam’s Trojan
Horse, which will help Muslims in their expansion in Poznań.
‘The minaret is a symbol of Islam’s dominance and the
dauntless/uncontrollable pride of its believers. And mosques
are breeding grounds for terrorists’.’ (Korotko 2009)
The ‘refugee crisis’ and hatred of Muslims
In February 2015, before the eruption of the ‘refugee crisis’, the conservative
journalist Dominik Zdort, drawing on the authority of George Friedman of
the Stratfor institute, began questioning the allegiance of the Polish Tatars.
A common language and customs, he argued, should not blind us to the overwhelming power of religion. Therefore, he pondered how it is possible that
over such a long period of time Tatars have not yet fully assimilated, and because they have not, we [‘Poles’ – M. B.] should treat them with caution. He expressed his hope that security agencies would vet them, and the state should
even be prepared to deport them. He was just uncertain as to the location to
which they should be deported (Zdort 2015).
With the rise of the ‘refugee crisis’, the radicalization of language and
views is striking. It is not necessary to go into detail because these are phenomena we witness every day with varying intensity across Europe. Football
stadiums all over Poland are spaces for open racial and ethnic hatred. During
a match between Lech Poznań and Podbeskidzie Bielsko-Biała which I attended as part of my ethnographic fieldwork for the project Football Research in
an Enlarged Europe6 (12 September 2015), the spectators were confronted
See, for example, ‘An appeal against the minaret’ (Apel przeciwko minaretowi), in which one can
read: ‘Muslim expansion is progressing. Under the pretext of an art installation sponsored by
Saudi Arabia and Hamas, Islamist radicals want to start constructing a mosque in Poznań. SAY NO.’
www.europa21.pl/wiadomosc/11862-Apel_Przeciw_minaretowi_w_Poznaniu (viewed: 3 Jan. 2016)
5
See: http://forum.gazeta.pl/forum/w,67,96952146,97027134,Islam_
nie_jest_otwarty_.html (19 Jan. 2016).
6http://www.free-project.eu/Pages/Welcome.aspx
4
Making Anthropology Matter in the Heyday of Islamophobia and the ‘Refugee Crisis’ 61
with a enormous banner: ‘To us it is obvious and simple, we do not want
refugees in Poland’ (To dla nas oczywiste i proste, nie chcemy uchodźców
w Polsce). Simultaneously, thousands of fans shouted hate slogans such as
‘The Islamist, a dirty bastard, is no equal for us Poles. The whole stadium
sings with us – refugees, fuck off’ (Islamista, brudna kurwa, nam Polakom nie
dorówna. Cały stadion śpiewa z nami, wypierdalać z uchodźcami). There was
no consequential punishment by the authorities for individuals who were
fully visible and identifiable, and only the leader of the Poznań soccer fans
was recently brought to court. Equally offensive and equally unpunished slogans are shouted during demonstrations against the ‘Islamization of Europe’
or the ‘Muslim invasion’ (cf. Żytnicki 2015). Internet forums put virtually no
limits on derogatory and vulgar anti-Muslim statements. ‘Goat fuckers’ (kozojebcy), Pakis (ciapaki), bandits, terrorists, savages, and dirty scum are commonly used words.7 Even Church pulpits can serve as sites at which anti-Islamic attitudes are expressed.8
Islamophobia without Muslims – how can it be explained?
Let us now discuss the hostility towards Muslims. Apparently, many ‘Poles
have a strong sense of ethnic distance, and wherever they encounter an ethnic or national other, their standpoint is hardly tolerant’ (Robotycki 2010:
109). As case studies have shown, this also applies to groups which Poles do
not have any contact with on a daily basis; thus intolerance refers, in fact, to
an imagined Other. Attempts to change the picture of the homogeneous society, the ‘natural’ state of ‘Polish Poland’, raise immediate concerns and reactions. Muslims encounter manifestations of xenophobia, which Renata Włoch
refers to a ‘phantom Islamophobia’ (2009: 65). This is because negative attitudes towards Muslims do not result from personal experience, rivalry on the
job market, or negative impressions from the use of public space. Instead, they
represent an outcome of the power of symbols and associated fears: past visions of the threat from the infidels, the monopolistic position of the Catholic
Church in association with Polishness, the strong influence of nationalist ideas and anti-Islamism fomented by the media in the West and within Poland.
The threat is indeed a phantom one, the community of ‘infidels’ imagined, and
the menace from the Muslims illusory. It does indeed resemble anti-Semitism
– historical myths and modern-day Islamophobia feed the current representations which have a decisive effect on people’s words and actions, including
those of representatives of public offices.
Why is this happening? Another diagnosis proposed by Robotycki can be
helpful here: ‘The structure of the Polish culture is homogeneous (jednoimienna)
7http://www.kibice.net/forum/viewtopic.php?f=3&t=25424
8http://wiadomosci.dziennik.pl/opinie/artykuly/501075,uchodzcy-jak-krzyzacy-biskuplibera-jak-raz-wpuscisz-do-domu-obcego-mozesz-zgotowac-wielka-biede.html
62 Český lid 103 1 2016
and has difficulties in becoming more open’ (2010: 110). Historical and social conditions turned the homogeneity of the Polish society into a value.
Strangeness seems to be something out of place (cf. Douglas 1966). The division between ‘us’ and ‘them’ has a crucial role in the cognitive organization
of the world. Violation of this mental arrangement is seen as a threat. Some
people are frightened by this, while others become guardians of the status
quo. Together, in a xenophobic spirit, they reject everything which does not
correspond to the broadly understood image of Polishness with Christianity
at its core. In this constellation Islam is an arch-enemy, a fatal threat to the
native tradition.
The other question concerns the ways in which society deals with newly
arriving immigrants. Czesław Robotycki is rather pessimistic in this regard:
for ‘the newcomers who have recently started arriving in Poland…adaptation
is difficult because of the type of culture, Poles’ attitudes, the administrative
barrier’ (2010: 110). His views are confirmed by the actions of the Polish immigrant authorities, who severely restrict applications for citizenship, especially those coming from a Muslim background. The acceptance of Chechens was
motivated by the state’s politics towards Russia. Such generosity is not shown
towards people escaping the war in the Middle East. Their cultural practices
are perceived as obscure, strange, unwelcome and, last but not least, dangerous. In the mono-ethnic and mono-religious cultural and religious landscape
of Poland, there is no place for Islam and the Muslims.
Explaining and interpreting is not enough
Identifying structural and cultural reasons for Islamophobia is our research
duty. Sharing our findings and interpretations with the wider public is our
pedagogical obligation. However, I am convinced it is not enough. Reacting
to xenophobia and religious discrimination and all forms of cultural racism
or cultural fundamentalism (Stolcke 1995) is also our moral and anthropological duty, especially now in the period of a tide of anti-Islamism and hatred toward others.
Scathing descriptions of Muslims deprive them of human features. In
this respect Islamophobia is indeed reminiscent of anti-Semitism in interwar Germany. It was Victor Klemperer, a German philologist of Jewish origin,
who in the 1930s grasped ‘how a perverted language use will seduce even the
initially innocent into complicity with genocidal policies and a politics of language that de-humanizes the other’ (Baumann 2004: 43). And, as we all know,
the Nazi use of language led not only to exclusion, but also to genocide. From
the anthropological perspective, and not only from that perspective, Poland
and the whole of Europe face a serious social and cultural problem.
I want to state in strong terms that this real danger has to be opposed
head on. The reservations of some of my colleagues in Poland who insist
Making Anthropology Matter in the Heyday of Islamophobia and the ‘Refugee Crisis’ 63
that anthropology should focus on research and should not engage in politics seems ridiculous to me in this context. This is a different question than
whether anthropology is political or not (Baer 2014), or whether it should be
purely concerned with cognition or should be engaged (Brocki 2013). Even if
anthropology for me is at its core political, I am prepared to take part in such
intradisciplinary debates. However, in the current sociocultural-political context in Europe, anthropologists should use all their expertise to act against
any form of discrimination.
Impelled by this motivation, I and a group of my collaborators decided
to act. In the name of the Centre for Migration Studies at Adam Mickiewicz
University in Poznań, an official statement entitled ‘Poland! Your resistance
toward refugees is shameful’9 was issued. The Centre organized a public demonstration attended by hundreds of participants in the city’s main square under the slogan ‘Refugees are welcome’ on 13 September 2015.10 We anthropologists also participated in the first demonstration by Muslims in Poland against
terrorism (Nyczka 2015).11 Migrant Info Point, an offshoot of the Centre, extends comprehensive help to migrants who have to deal with the state authorities and face many bureaucratic difficulties. Finally, the Polish Ethnological
Society, of which I am currently the president, issued the following ‘Position
Statement’ during its general conference in Lvov:
Position statement of the Polish Ethnological Society on
expressions of xenophobia and intolerance in Poland
The Polish Ethnological Society, at its 91st General Assembly,
held to commemorate the 120th anniversary of its founding in
Lviv, would like to express its position on an issue that has been
the subject of its members’ research and educational activities
since the organisation’s inception – relations between people.
Our decades-long professional activity and experience convince
us of the need to take a decisive stand on this matter.
Over their history, the peoples of our region have been victimized,
and individuals have suffered or lost their lives as the result of
ideologically-driven intolerance and discriminatory practices
directed against certain groups of people. Recent events associated
with the so-called refugee crisis have sparked a wave of statements
9http://www.cebam.amu.edu.pl/166-oswiadczenie-centrum-badanmigracyjnych-uam-w-sprawie-uchodzcow.html
10http://www.federacja-anarchistyczna.pl/index.php/artykuly/dzialania-fa/
wielkopolskie/item/1016-poznań-wiec-„uchodzcy-mile-widziani”-relacja
11http://poznan.wyborcza.pl/poznan/1,36037,19262174,kto-wspierapoznanskich-muzulmanow-podemski-wasilewski-buchowski.html
64 Český lid 103 1 2016
and actions that are incompatible with the values of humanism to
which we adhere. Hate speech directed against people based on
their race, ethnicity, religion or worldview has become widespread
and acceptable. It is becoming rife at all levels of society, including,
most regrettably, among opinion leaders, in the media, and in
public places. This is being directed in particular at Muslims and
national groups associated with this religion. We are dismayed by
the widespread consent to these affronts on others by the citizens
of our society, and at times, by organs of the state and the law.
We warn that similar processes took place during the birth of
a most horrible and openly dehumanizing system – fascism. These
processes led to acts of genocide and ethnic cleansing. We need
to prevent the dangers that arise from xenophobia, and for this
reason, we call for efforts to combat it in all its forms, beginning
with its expression in language and acts of verbal violence. We call
instead for widespread expressions of social solidarity, a readiness
to help the needy, openness and tolerance. We urge not only those in
positions of authority, but also ordinary citizens, to take decisions
and actions that represent concrete expressions of these values.
Polish Ethnological Society
Lviv, 25 September 2015
This leads us to the final conclusion about the role of anthropology in society when it comes to some questions which are vital for its functioning.
Clifford Geertz (1986: 105), paraphrasing Friedrich Nietzsche, exclaimed:
Anthropologie, meine frohliche Wissenschaft. No doubt it is so for many of us.
However, at the same time it also has to be a responsible science that should
really matter. And it really matters (not only) in times when crucial anthropological values are being questioned. Therefore, we should also exclaim,
Anthropologie, meine verantwortungsvolle Wissenschaft!
February 2016
Making Anthropology Matter in the Heyday of Islamophobia and the ‘Refugee Crisis’ 65
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